


Obscura

by Fiery_Moon



Category: Fantasy - Fandom, Original Work, Original characters - Fandom, Science Fiction - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Abuse of Authority, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Assassins & Hitmen, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy, Female Protagonist, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rebellion, Science Fiction, Soldiers, Strong Female Role/Lead, Unresolved Sexual Tension, War, Will probably be a kinky bitch and make this dirty as hell lmaoooo, fashion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28647297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiery_Moon/pseuds/Fiery_Moon
Summary: The cannon filled her ears still, the violent thrums still strumming her bones. Though it had been years since the war, Dayu Nihala would not forget what she witnessed, nor who she lost. Now, a member of the rebellion against the The Elite Order, Dayu finds more in Kronican City than beggars and whores, but the face of a man she will never forget. As the secrets of The Elite Order unravel, enemies become allies, and the pet of The Elite is more than what Dayu thought, she will learn that not everything is a war over countries.Cirin Calavore, the pet of The Elite, the Arachnid...the traitor. Everyone knew him by name, the assassin of The General, the powerful man behind The Elite Order. Cirin had bargained his freedom long ago, but for what cost? What lengths was he willing to go to reach freedom, even if he was defending the very man who tore his people apart? It all comes undone when he meets a woman at a ball, but she is no ordinary woman, and for once freedom is in his grasp, but what is he willing to give up in return? As he discovers the secret of his people, and of the man he called his "savior", as his dark past comes to light, Cirin realizes he is not who he thought he was...





	Obscura

**Author's Note:**

> All characters and settings are of my own imagination, please do not steal/copy any works! :))
> 
> I have yet to ever post anything I have written, and I hope this does well or else I might cry :')  
> I hope you all like it, I will be updating when I can, but let's see how that goes lol, anyways, thank you all to who read it, and yes...simping is allowed, luv u all <3 
> 
> P.S any support/love is appreciated, and if you have any recommendations then I am open to suggestions! (I will do most topics, no rape, or underage shizz though) I also apologize for any grammatical mistakes, I am not the best editor and still learning. (I am a noob)
> 
> \- Moon <3

_ Prologue _

A scream broke out. 

The woman ran into nothingness. The darkness of the alleyways, dripping down into the misleading path, her shrill cries only driving her pursuer closer. She was unaware of what followed her, only that it wanted her, she was the prey. 

She has dropped her heels a while back, one of the breaking on the initial fall, when she’d caught the eye of the feral creature. It looked to have a humanoid body, but only with the instincts of an animal, no humanity laid in the eyes of bronze that had met her own, nor the fangs dripping with blood, flowing down the neckline of whatever it was. The body not far from her own...a friend met with a gruesome fate, never again to breathe the already polluted air of Kronican City, city of liars, thieves, and beasts of all shapes and personalities. 

Her feet beat on the hard, cold stone beneath her, each step more painful than the last, the slash on her thigh gushing blood, more than should be allowed. The adrenaline fueled what remaining strength she had, driving her to run, like a whisper in her mind, phantom hands pushing her. 

She heard a shrill cry, not of fear, of hunger...a battle cry. The injured leg she was half dragging, was slowing her down, her eyes whipping around, bloodshot and wet, to the what was behind her….whatever it was. It stood at the entrance of the alleyway, tail swishing back and forth in excitement of the kill. Mumbled “no’s’ fled her mouth, no more than a whisper, a plea in the night, but no one would hear her, not as she was ripped apart. Her footsteps halted, and her eyes glanced over herself. Her dress was ripped, the thing constricting her lungs, the fabric hugging her form too tightly. 

Her eyes glanced down to her one remaining heel, and in a moment's breath, the heel was in hand, and she turned to  _ it _ , gripping the only weapon she had. Its cry rang out, like a scream in the night , the sound sending those phantom whispers through her again,  _ RUN!  _ That is all those whispers wanted,  _ Run! _

It stalked toward her, in curiosity or lust for blood, she did not know. It made clicking sounds, stepping with well balanced, and light feet. She stood her ground, ready to strike with the butt of the heel. Slowly, it crept into the light of the lamps cascading overhead, and the shock ran through her veins. 

It looked...normal. Lips, features, hair, hands,...eyes, all like her. It’s eyes locked on her again, and the creature halted, standing to its full height and staring, examining,...curiosity.Her fault however...was not realizing when she was in a trap.

Her form laxed, a sigh escaping her, and then it happened so suddenly. One minute, it was one place, the next it was above her, the heel out sight, knocked from her grasp. She scrambled away, screaming for help as a last minute attempt before she was devoured whole. It hopped toward her, bloody and all, smiling with wicked intent. 

Her back hit a wall. She couldn’t breathe, the air in her lungs had long since left her. 

Her arms gripped at the wall as if it would help...no...this was the end. The creature swished it’s tail again, an arm arching upward, ready to strike down on her. Her eyes closed, air feeling her lungs for the last time, her olive skin sweating, hair plastered to her forehead, this really was how she was going to die. She could feel the hot breath against her neck, the tang of fresh blood feeling her nostrils, something she would never forget the smell off, not in these last few moments of life. 

The creature's clawed hand arose, ready to strike her down. It let out a final cry, a cry of victory no doubt, only to be cut short. 

A whistling sound filled her ears, a soft tune barely audible, but she knew it was there. Her tear-stained eyes peaked open, and the creature was no longer close to her face, its back was to her now, it’s eyes locked on the figure in the entrance of the alleyway. The lamp light barely illuminates the black fitted stance of the new comer. Wrapped in some sort of robe like clothing, the sleeves looking to hang low and big, and the fabric swaying in the wind between the feet of this...mystery. 

The whistle progressed into a small tune, the sound carrying out into the wind, and into the alleyway. The creature cocked it’s head to the side, listening in on what the tune had to tell. 

It’s tail stopped swishing, the fleshy extension going completely still. 

It’s stance lowered, as if pushed down by an invisible force. It looked like a runner midway down to start position, only more rigid. 

The lovely tune came to a halt, breaking the beast from whatever had happened. It charged, not at the figure, toward her. She cringed again, pulling herself into the wall, only to feel a whoosh of air. It jumped, scaling the wall as if it was nothing, feral fear running in it’s veins. It reached the top, a clawed hand gripping the rooftop, only to fall. 

It fell, almost 20 feet high, a sound unlike anything she had ever heard coming from it. 

With a thud, it falls to the ground, cries of pain leaving its writhing body. Her eyes darted to the figure, walking slowly and intently toward the body of the seizing beast. The boots of the cloaked mystery came to a stop, right above the quaking body. It slashes at the feet of the figure, attempting to escape the pain it was in. Launching its body toward the black, flowing fabric, with little success, the shocks of electricity coursing through its form. 

A scream broke from the entity, and a light, rasping voice accompanying it. 

“ You're a traitor to your own people! Burn in hell!” The laced pain in the words, sent a feeling through her that she had never felt. 

As a final attempt, the entity leaps at the stranger, the little light casting them in and out of sight, but she does not miss it. The blade, the blood, futile attempts of escape from a dying creature. 

The figure, as the thing had leaped at it with intent to kill, a blade had emerged from within the cloak, cutting through the creature like it was nothing more than war butter under the knife. Blood flew everywhere, covering walls, and nearby lamps with speckles of warm liquid. In a second, the body was cast to the side, the blade sheathed within the cloak once again. 

A sob broke from her lips, a silent plea for help, and it did not go unnoticed. The figure, with steady feet, walked to her, their feet sliding gracefully toward her. In seconds, they were upon her, squatting down to her eye level, her dismayed form still curled up to the wall. Her eyes were met with a visor, a screen like mask, which outside eyes can not see through, but the one to wear it, can see all that is around them better than anyone else. 

“ Are you hurt?” A masculine voice broke out, slightly altered by the mask, but male nonetheless. 

The question went through her mind, the shock lacing every bit of her preventing words from escaping her lips, only a simple nod. A glove hand reached out to her own, an offering. She contemplated for a while, not knowing if she should trust a stranger, one that had saved her life however. After a few seconds she took his hand, the leather smooth against her skin. Slowly, he brought her to her feet, guiding his other hand and her forearm for support, but it didn’t stop her from collapsing right on him, her head falling against his chest, and her weight falling to him. 

He kept still, arms looping around her to keep her still, and a sob broke from her, hands burying into the fabric on him, and she cried. Truly cried, the ugly sounds racking through her, breaking everything she was, leaving her vulnerable. She stood there for a long while, letting the sound of the heartbeat beneath her fingers calm her, her bloodshot eyes looking beyond to the lifeless corpse, barely visible in the dimming light of the lamps, and she was content to stay here, grasping on a stranger, covered in blood, and half clothed, but as reality came back to her, so did her senses. 

She let him go, letting her weight come back to her own feet, withdrawing from his grasp.

Her eyes met his uncovered ones, and the fear crept through her all over again. His eyes, the most silver orbs she’d ever seen, as captivating as they were when she’d first seen him, only more intense...and dangerous. This man was no stranger..nor was he her savior. Everyone knew him, even if they didn’t know they knew him, the eyes were unmistakable, nor were the cruel, wickedly beautiful features of the General’s war dog, the olive skin, long, jet black hair braided in a tribal form long since gone to the archives. The lightning silver eyes...this was not savior, this was the real monster. 

“ I-...I know who you are..” her words came out stuttered, the exhaustion taking over everything in her. She stumbled back on her words. 

He did not smile, or even move a muscle, simply kept staring, not giving her enough time to see the flash of the blade.

Another body, just not as bloody as the last.

Cirin Calavore sheathed his blade, hidden among the robes. He would not feel guilt for either of the corpses, nor for the countless lives in the past. Cirin did not feel guilt, or pain, or remorse for what he did. He was not raised to do so, he was raised to serve, even if it hurt the others around him, he was not to care for anyone, only the missions he was given. The body of the woman would be forgotten by tomorrow, the dead Geran not as much so. The creature did not lie, he was a traitor, he had turned on his people, serving only those who would benefit him, but….he didn’t care, he would not be seduced by emotion unneeded in this line of work, nor would the words of the dead come over him. 

His visor slipped back over his face, the specialized vision within coming to life. He would not linger long here, the General would be waiting. He turned, heading out of the alleyway, soldiers filing in and around the bodies, gear in hand. A soldier in blue, stepping forth to greet Cirin, waiting for orders. 

“ Bring the Geran, burn the girl, she has seen too much. Find any immediate family, make sure they don’t remember Callie Montes.” The soldier was trembling beneath his armor, even if you didn’t  _ know  _ Cirin Calavore...you knew him. 

“ Yes, sir.” A curt nod, before the soldier went to brief his comrades.

Cirin didn’t remember how he knew her name, only that she would be gone from his mind like she would everyone else's. His boots clanked on the concrete, his grace that of a killer, one without a heart to lead him down a path better than the one he walked on now, alone. 

  
  
  


He sighed, his gloved hands slipped off the cloak, a black tunic beneath. Something flicked to life behind him, swishing back and forth like the Geran in the alleyway, before life had drained its eyes. The creature had not been wrong in the slightest, he was a traitor to his people. 

He kept walking anyway. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> What the FACK is this weird ass spacing?!
> 
> Thank you all who have made it this far! I hope you enjoyed it and hope to add the next bit soon!  
> (I simped for Cirin while creating him so I hope ya'll do at some point also hehe ;] )
> 
> Love ya'll <3


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